


confrontations and a fishing trip

by moomin_boy



Series: moomin's mcyt brainrot [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Family Dynamics, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Phil is trying his best, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, kind of between Phil and Fundy, mostly angst though oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moomin_boy/pseuds/moomin_boy
Summary: inspired by Ph1LzA's 'I am to sign adoption papers' stream. An angsty exploration of some of Ghostbur's interactions with his father and son.---‘I’d love to have you tell me how bad of a person I was, but I really have to go Fundy. I’m very sorry. Everything’s happy. Everything’s fine.’
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: moomin's mcyt brainrot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079204
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! This is my first work in the fandom so I hope it’s alright! I haven’t written fanfic in literal years but I love so many of the SMP characters and wanted to do some explorations of them :) I’ll probably be doing more in the future. Feel free to leave requests in the comments and if I get inspiration from them I’ll write them!
> 
> The first bit is kind of just description/exposition, sorry if it’s a little boring!! There’s more dialogue and emotions after the ---, at which point it becomes more Wilbur-centric, the start is more Phil :)

Today, L’Manberg was peaceful. The usual sounds of creation, conflict and the overlapping voices of the nation's many boisterous citizens was replaced by an atmosphere of tranquillity as the trees groaned against the gentle wind. The noises of nature were disturbed only by two sets of footsteps across the wooden path.

Phil led his grandson silently back towards his house, contemplating the things the boy had said earlier. It was rare that the two would take time to discuss serious matters, but his distress was playing on the older’s mind. Fundy had been orphaned, which seemed only to have allowed him more time to dwell on his past relationship with his father. Which, it clearly appeared to Phil, had not been a positive one. He loved his son, and he definitely didn’t view him as a bad person, but the man had certainly seemed to dedicate more of his time to the conflicts and tribulations of his nation than he had to raising his son. Wilbur had been a good man, of that he was sure, but he had not been a good father. Phil sighed and let his eyes fall shut as they reached his home.

“Wilbur… you know he loved you right?” he let out, breaking the silence that had blanketed the area. “You know that he was just- so proud of his son.” If nothing else, Phil knew at least this was true of Wilbur. Though he may not have shown it, he had loved the boy, and it was important to him that Fundy knew this. He turned his head slightly to catch sight of the boy who had been trailing behind him, watching in his peripherals as his lips parted slightly before his gaze dropped to the floor, whatever words he had dying on his tongue. Letting his bated breath slip from his lips, he made his way into the house.

They spent a while unpacking Fundy’s few belongings in the makeshift bedroom Phil had arranged for him in his house for the time being, until his adoption was complete. It didn’t sit right with him to leave him alone after the death of his father, especially not with his headspace being where it appeared to be. And if Fundy’s speed in accepting the offer to stay with him said anything, it was clear he wasn’t keen on being left alone either. If Phil had to take a bit of time away from gathering supplies and assisting his own children to help his grandson, he was more than willing to do so. Part of him felt a sense of guilt for his own absence throughout the boy's life, and what happened with Wilbur had only emphasised how important it was that he be more present for the kid. Fundy sat on his new bed quietly as they finished, and Phil contemplated what they had discussed, the father and son experiences he’d missed in childhood, and settled on an idea. “Let’s go fishing mate.” A joyous expression fell across the boy's face as he nodded enthusiastically, once again trailing Phil as he gathered a few supplies before they headed off. His step seemed lighter than before.

\---

The two sat at the end of the dock overlooking the waters outside L’Manberg. Phil took the two rods from his bag, passing the smaller of them to Fundy and instructing him on how to correctly hold it. From behind them, the ghost of the boy's father watched.

“What were his last words?” Fundy asked quietly as he watched Phil place the bait at the end of the line, hesitantly copying his actions with the piece he was handed. Wilbur hovered silently behind them, his gaze trailing across the boys militant, straight posture, his awkward hold on the rod, travelling up to the soft looking curls of hair falling at his neck. He had intended to come and join them, but a tight panic clawed its way into his gut and he stopped, opting to watch his son and father instead. Perhaps he could still find comfort without having to talk to them. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that just yet. Instead, he settled down and listened intently to Phil’s response.

Phil breathed in sharply, before responding in a mournful tone. “He begged me to kill him. He pressed the sword into my hand and he begged me.” Wilbur’s lip twitched at his words. Whilst the memory was associated with a large sense of relief rather than pain in his own mind, the distress of his fathers tone set an ache in his bones. He had never wanted to hurt the man.

An uncomfortable silence settled for a moment before Fundy cleared his throat, asking with teary eyes, “was it quick?”

“Two hits.”

The growing discomfort Wilbur felt as the two spoke was becoming unbearable, his head pounding as the confusing negative feelings began flooding back to him. Clearing his throat, he made himself visible to the two. Their conversation was cut short and relief flooded over him as the vague and amorphous emotions trickled away, his pounding head settling down. “Hi guys! How’s it going?” he asked, adopting a soft and gentle tone as the memory of his emotions from only moments ago slipped away from him. He watched as his father looked over to Fundy, concern painting his face before he responded hesitantly.

“Hey Will, how’s it going? I’m just showing Fundy how to fish. He, uh, always wanted to learn with you but- well,” Phil trailed off, his eyes becoming vacant as he swallowed thickly.

Wilbur grimaced slightly, a sense of guilt for his past actions coming over him. “Oh! That’s… nice,” he responded quietly, finally making eye contact with his son. “Last time I spoke to Fundy was-” he cut off, scrunching his eyes closed and furrowing his brow as he tried to draw out the faint memory.

“When? When was it?” Fundy spat, and he flinched slightly at his son’s sharp tone. His hurt eyes fell on the back of the boy’s head, whose attention had turned back to fishing. Letting out a sigh, he responded in as gentle and loving a tone as he could muster.

“When I announced I was running for president, and you said that you were also going to run.” He watched Fundy’s head drop as he let out a sigh, and worried that he’d done something wrong. He cut back in quickly, not wanting to upset his son. “That’s the last time I remember. I was so proud of you, I remember that. That was the last time we spoke, I believe,” he finished, struggling to recall any point after that in which he had spoken with the boy. It was a shame, really, how few memories he had of them. He tried not to think too hard about it.

Fundy shook his head and began to pack away the gear he had been using. He lifted his head and looked back to his father, and Wilbur found himself unable to decipher the many emotions flicking through his eyes. “That was the last good time.” Wilbur held his eye for a moment before looking away, the throbbing in his head starting up again.

“Oh,” he said quietly, watching Phil go to place a comforting hand on Fundy’s shoulder, sending a friendly but conflicted smile in his own direction. Though he longed for the physical comfort his father used to give, the smile warmed his chest. He felt bad for putting Phil in this uncomfortable situation. He wished that the whole family could just get along together, but clearly his past actions had prevented that. Returning to his chipper tone, he continued - “well, anyway! I just came because I wanted to know how you guys were doing.” He sent a small smile in Fundy’s direction, and plucked up the courage to move towards him slightly. Reaching out an ethereal hand towards him, he muttered, “my little champion.” Fundy’s eyes widened and a red tinged his cheeks as Wilbur smiled at him, watching his fingertips ghost across the boy's cheek but being unable to feel the sensation. He let his hand drop with a sigh as the younger composed himself, glancing to Phil before taking off down the dock and back into the nation of L’Manberg. Wilbur’s head fell as Phil approached him.

“He’ll come round. Just give him time,” the man said softly.

“He’ll always be my little guy,” Wilbur responded, watching his sons retreating figure in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! I was going to post this as a one-shot but I couldn't find a good way to link between this section and the next, so I'll post it as a separate chapter. Should be up in a couple days :)
> 
> Again, if you have any requests please leave them below! I’m happy to write about basically any SMP person but I won’t do ship content with minors or those who have expressed they aren’t comfortable with it! 
> 
> leave me comments for virtual hugs :D
> 
> -moomin boy :)


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fundy gathers the courage to speak to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two! feel free to leave constructive criticism, I haven't written in a long time and it'd be helpful for improvement! be gentle tho I'm sensitive :')

Phil took a deep, shaky breath as he descended down the ladder into Wilbur’s home. It had taken a while of convincing Fundy, but he felt it was important that the two spoke. He wasn’t comfortable leaving this conflict in the air. Fundy would be arriving soon, giving him a brief period of time to ensure his son was alright before the youngest arrived. He made his way to the iron door, knocking gently.

“Come in,” came quietly from the inside, tone not quite as chipper as Phil was used to hearing from his boy. He entered to the sight of Wilbur crouched over a book, flicking through the pages in an attentive manner. Looking up, a soft expression covered his face. “Hey, Phil. Here, come sit!” he said softly, placing the book away and patting the spot next to him. 

“Hey mate. You doing alright down here?” He furrowed his brow, looking over his son with a concerned eye. Nodding to the messy pile of books next to him, he asked, “are you looking for something in particular?”

Wilber’s face became taut, his shoulders tensing. “I want to understand better- why they hate me so much. Alive me, at least. I was thinking, maybe it would help me find a way to make it up to him.” He trailed off, and Phil didn’t need him to specify to know who he was talking about. He sighed, wishing he could hug his son how he used to. “I just want to make it up to him,” he added quietly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Will. There’s just, there’s a lot that happened that he needs time to process, ok? He can’t just forget all that, not like you were able to. It could take him time to get over all that, ok?”

“That’s ok, I can wait for him. I want to be there for him.” Phil nodded, smiling softly at his son. 

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re sticking around for him this time. Actually, would you be willing to talk some of it out now? He wants to speak to you, to help him understand it all a bit better, if you’d be willing?”

Wilbur’s eyes lit up, and he smiled excitedly. “He wants to talk to me? He said that?” Phil nodded, and his grin grew wider. “Yes, of course I will! Is he coming here?” Phil confirmed, and the other stood up, nodding to himself as if consolidating his thoughts. He hurried to clear the books and potion ingredients away, putting everything in its rightful home so it would be tidy when his son arrives. Then he took his place in the centre of the room, waiting patiently and watching the door. 

Before long, the sound of footsteps approached and he sucked in a deep breath as Fundy entered the room. “Hey son! How’re you feeling?” He asked, voice high and smile wide.

“Hello Will,” he responded quietly, cautiously making his way into the room. Wilbur’s smile twitched downwards slightly. “So this is where you’re living now, huh?” 

“Yep! I have a library through here as well. I’m trying to keep a record of everything so, you know, I can remember. Wanna see?”

Fundy tilted his head, looking over to his grandfather. The man smiled gently and nodded in encouragement to him, and he let out a gentle sigh. “Sure, lets see it.” 

“I keep them all in here! Look, this one is from Phil, this one is Tommy’s - oh! But uh, don’t read that one.” Fundy found himself zoning out from his father’s words as he watched the man remove each individual book from the barrel and place them on the ground. It was good to see him so content, but there was a sense of bitterness in him. 

Impulsively, Fundy interrupted the man's ramblings. “Will- we need to actually have a talk.” 

Wilbur paused, looking to the ground and pulling his lower lip between his teeth before responding quietly, “whenever people say that to me, they tell me sad things and I forget them.”

The youngest’s bitterness only grew. Why did he have to deal with everything that happened whilst his father, the one who was supposed to look after _him,_ got to just let it all go? He clenched his jaw and stepped forward, seeing Phil fidget in the corner of his eye. He’d told Fundy to keep it calm, go gentle on the fragile man, and he had intended to. He didn’t want to upset his grandfather. But this was an emotional area for him, and once he got started he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. “Will! Listen!” His father flinched and kept his gaze trained on the ground. “You know what’s wrong? Do you even know? Will, listen, look at me,” he said desperately. Eventually his father’s eyes lifted to hesitantly meet his son’s gaze. He ignored the hurt look and continued, “every single time something serious comes up, you evade it. You just avoid everything!”

“I’m sorry Fundy-”

“No. Sorry isn't enough. You run away from _every_ serious consequence that might come through your actions. You think everything is fine? It’s not!” Phil tried to speak up, to diffuse the situation a little, but the youngest wouldn’t stop. “When I needed you most, you died. Because of what, L’Manberg? You thought that was justice? You thought that was _good for me?_ You left me!”

Fundy’s shouting came to a halt, and an uncomfortable silence settled in the air, broken only by his sniffling. He dropped his head and rubbed furiously at his eyes with his sleeve, determined not to show any weakness. Wilbur’s heart ached in his chest and he edged his way closer to the youngest. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember doing any of those things, I just-”

“Let me tell you something Will. You know what happened after all of your memories? Your good memories of our ‘last talk’? Because it wasn’t our last talk, Will!” Wilbur backed off slightly, a brief moment of hurt flashing across his face before he went blank. All emotions were masked as he responded quietly with a melancholic undertone seeping into his words.

“If I don’t remember it, it probably wasn’t worth remembering.” _I don't want to remember._

Wilbur found himself regretting the words when a suffocating silence flooded the room. He turned to see the pain on his son’s face, and the conflict on his father’s. _Perhaps that didn’t come out like I intended it to._ For a moment, he allowed his brain to drift back to the things his son had said. If that wasn’t their last talk as he remembered it being, then what was? A darkness creeped into his mind, a vague haze of memories trying their best to come back. Once again, a pain came clawing at his stomach and the ache set into his bones, and he tried his hardest to block the memories from his head. He was vaguely aware of his son speaking as the pain became too much for him to hide, but he didn’t want to hear the venom that was undoubtedly coming out. Impulsively, he hid himself from them once again, invisibility masking the cramping in his gut from the others. He made his way to the door, entirely ready to be gone from the situation. 

“You know, I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to go. I’m sure there’s lots of horrible things I’ve done that you want to tell me about but uh, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting with um- with Tubbo,” he stuttered out, trying his hardest to cover the shake in his voice and looking away from the two entirely. He couldn’t bear to see his father’s disappointment nor his son’s anger. “I’d love to have you tell me how bad of a person I was, but I really have to go Fundy. I’m very sorry. Everything’s happy. Everything’s fine,” he trailed off, trying to convince himself more than anything, but the break in his voice did the opposite. He watched Phil rush to his son, taking him in his arms, and deciding he was in good hands with the man. They would be better off if he left them alone. They didn’t want him here. Silently, he made his way out of his home, leaving his family behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! apologies for the sad ending, I generally want to stick to angst with a happy ending but I was trying to stay canon compliant for this specific snippet in time. Let me know ur thoughts! :)
> 
> -moomin boy :D


End file.
